The Road to Diamond, Day 286: Recovery

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September 9, 2025, Reykjavik- It turns out that my trusty laptop had had its screen light minimized. I walked about the north side of this bustling Icelandic capital and found the computer store that had been recommended to me by the manager of HI Dalur, where I am spending the night.

So, here we both are, giving you the skinny on the first night and day of Europe 2025. Let’s go back a bit:

Home Stretch- Yesterday morning, as I left HB 1, wearing my bush hat and sunscreen, the three neighbour kids lined up and greeted me from their yard. Dad was in the background, saying “Don’t bother him!” Those precious little ones will never be a bother.

After a short walk over to Yavapai College, I was picked up by the shuttle to Sky Harbor International Airport. Mentor: A gregarious gentleman from Saskatchewan was my seatmate, after joining the group at Hampton Inn. Turned out, he was also going to Calgary and had lived in Sweden, one of the cornerstones of my time on this side of the Atlantic. He corroborated my agenda in that country and in Denmark. He also saw me to the right counter for West Jet, a carrier well-known in Canada, but less so in the Southwest U.S. For good measure, he “talked me into” not using my TSA special access number; I wouldn’t have been able to use it,anyway, as we were there before the quick processing line opened-and few people were processing at that time.

Snags: The bugbear of modern travelers is the plethora of electrical outlets that don’t work. They are in airports and cheap motels, as well as ferry boats and some national parks (though not many people go to those for the WiFi). Trains tend not to have WiFi at all, at least in the United States (though that is supposed to change next year.) I will see, next week, how much progress European train stations and cars have made, in connectivity. We got that settled, as mentioned above.

Language: Everyone on the plane spoke English (They were Canadians, Captain O! ) Everyone here, so far, speaks English, also. Some of the hostel workers speak it better than I. All those who I encountered this afternoon, including a couple of very well-dressed ladies, took the time to corroborate the concierge’s route map.

Sights Seen: Here are a few small gems seen in the Dalur and Laugarnes precincts.

Airport sculpture
Keflavik International Airport (Okay, so not at the northern edge of Reykjavik). It was the first thing that caught my eye here.
Rainy day picnic?
Dalur’s Reykjavik Camp Ground.
Reindeer near a forest preserve, Laugardalur, Reykjavik
Seaside calm
Thermal healing venue, Nautholsvik, Reykjavik
Laughursdal Church
Laughursdal Lutheran Community

I leave you with the notion that this people, the increasingly diverse community that makes up Reykjavik is among the most dedicated to kindness and helpfulness found anywhere.

No Flight of Fancy

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June 26, 2024, Bedford, MA- The young lady looked both embarrassed and crestfallen, upon learning that her oversized luggage would not fit in an overhead bin. Apparently, it had fit on previous flights, but on this full flight, it was a no-go. She asked if the middle seat was taken, and hearing a “No”, dropped her carry-on item on the seat, brought the offending bag to the jet way, for check-in, and came back to take her seat. No further words were exchanged with anyone, until the end of the flight, when she joined another young woman (maybe a sister) and an older man (maybe her father). I heard her tell the man that “that woman just growled at me, when I was bringing the bag out.” Sad that, even when people do inconvenient things, that we can’t summon at least a modicum of grace.

My day began at 1 a.m., proceeding to the shuttle down to Phoenix at 2:30, a somewhat chaotic scene at TSA, which led to a group of us being sent to another TSA check-point, on the other side of the terminal-and an only slightly less chaotic scene. I have rather mastered the art of removing items that need to be placed in separate tubs, ahead of time, thus not being obtrusive to other passengers or to the officers. It worked nicely, this morning.

Once in St. Louis, I got brunch at Bagel Bakery, directly across from our gate. A message came, around Noon, saying the flight to Boston was delayed, so I just settled into Joseph Campbell’s “Myths of Light”, that much deeper. It turned out, though, that the message was in error, so I informed the gate clerk, who checked and found that the flight crew had made up for the late departure from San Diego and would be on time, after all.

We got into Boston, as scheduled, waited at baggage claim for about thirty minutes, and upon finding that Mom was still with us, I proceeded to the rental car center, via a suitably crowded mega bus. Budget’s office, inside the garage itself, was not crowded, and I was in my vehicle in short order. Then came getting out of the Airport. I had almost navigated the Logan Labyrinth, when the driver in front of me stopped, got out and threw away some trash, then got back in her vehicle and- just sat, looking over at me like she was at wit’s end. A MassPort officer came over, and directed me as to how to get the rest of the way towards Revere, then removed some cones that were between me and the actual road. I was out of Boston, five minutes later.

When I was a teenager, being able to navigate Bell Circle, in Revere, at rush hour was deemed a rite of passage by every older man who ever mentored a kid on the near North Shore. I managed, back then. Nowadays, Bell is a shadow of its former self, thanks to properly placed traffic lights and yield signs that are actually obeyed by those approaching them. I was at my Mom’s place of residence, twenty minutes after leaving Logan International Airport. The once terrifying Near North Shore traffic had lost its menace.

Mom was silent, but she opened her eyes, just a bit, and grasped my hand, as I spoke to her and kissed her forehead. Her breath and pulse are still discernible and I know she was able to hear us singing along to James Taylor’s and Carole King’s performances of timeless songs, like “You’ve Got A Friend”. Dave and Deb left, after about an hour, and I stayed on until the night nurse got there. She had her own struggles to get to work, in the rain, but in the end, all was well. I bid Mom good night, promising to come back tomorrow morning.

The elevator to the first floor found me stuck inside, due to a brief power outage, then everything came back on. I was “rescued” by another night nurse who was waiting on the first floor. The drive from Lynnfield to Bedford was made in the rain, and of course once near the motel, GPS got bollixed up and sent me to the next lot over. As I backed up in that lot, to turn around, a random guy wandered from behind my vehicle, because that’s what happens, when it’s dark, rainy and late at night. We are always expected to be on game. He was a security guard for the lot’s owner, it turned out, and was not unpleasant.

Now, I’m in my comfortable room and rest will come easy.

Actual Vacation, Day One

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November 20, 2023, Grapevine- As I started to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich, around Noon, son intervened. It means a lot to him to be a good host, so he took over the making of lunch. My true vacation, time with no service or work responsibility, has begun.

Yes, most often, when I leave Home Base, there are elements of the greater good involved. This time, I will just focus on being a good family member, with no Zoom calls or other activities-emergencies aside. Yet, being a good family member is the greatest good, as I think about it.

Up early this morning-2 a.m. early, I found smooth sailing and was off to the shuttle by 3:05. The ride to Phoenix was not crowded, and after a pleasant conversation with one of the other passengers, we arrived at 5:10. From there, TSA was a breeze and our flight to Dallas-Fort Worth arrived ten minutes early. Aram was at the airport shortly thereafter. I accompanied him to an appointment, then got to enjoy the grilled cheese lunch and sprawl out for a snooze.

This evening, after a light dinner, the three of us took in Grapevine’s charming Christmas Festival-with plenty of lights and a modest fireworks display. There was even Fair-type street food, so we each tried a deep-fried Oreo. Not as bad as I thought it might be, and we walked enough to keep the pounds from sticking.

Here are some scenes from the Festival.

Holiday Lights, at Grapevine Recreation Center
Sculptures in the Peace Circle, Grapevine Main Street
Sam Houston, offering peace to First Nations of Texas.
View of the Peace Circle sculptures
All around the Clock Tower (Above and below)
Some fireworks scenes (Above and below)
The Glass Reindeer
More lights in Grapevine’s Main Square (Above and below)

As in Manila’s Rizal Park, and back in Prescott-at Courthouse Square, there is nothing like bright lights to raise spirits and the people’s mood. Sometimes, just a little encouragement is all the incentive people need to make a commitment to the betterment of their lives.

Seventy-One and Counting, Day 2

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November 30, 2021- Son was busy, during our after-lunch walk, counting any and all critters he spotted along the nature trail that wends it way along Mill Creek, just east of the apartment complex which was, until this afternoon, my Texas home for a week. There were eight squirrels, a crane and probably five green beetles of one kind or another. Such is the condition of an ecosystem that is in the early stages of a managed recovery.

Lunch. Yunhee made her third classic Korean meal in a row. After mandu gook (dumpling soup), and miyok gook (seaweed soup) came bulgogi (the famous Korean marinated barbecued beef). Every meal taken at home was heavenly.

Farewells. I left my little family behind, after a lowkey, but well-spent week. We did not leave the house much, but did take in a few nature trails-including the aforementioned Mill Creek Trail; the latest James Bond film-replete with an Agent 007 who is not Bond, James Bond-and a JB mini-he; and a couple of restaurants-the surprisingly good Tommy Tamale and the earnest, but not overwhelming, Jake’s Burgers and Beer. About the latter, the perky server, Maria, took good care of us, when she wasn’t hanging out with her friend-but that is a maturity thing, not a matter of character. The fare itself was lackluster.

Aram and I had important conversations about spirituality and preparing oneself for parenthood-before even trying to start a family. He has a clear vision about both matters, which I find re-assuring. I was also able to give him extra moral support, while he finished a college project he found nettlesome at times. I’m ever happy to be with my little family.

Return flight. I wandered into an American Airlines bank of check-in stations that were apparently meant for connecting passengers. The agents looked bored out of their skulls, so they were more than happy to check my bag and direct me to the correct gate. TSA is a bit more exacting at DFW than at Sky Harbor. Shoes and belts still come off, and the efficient site manager has bins underneath each standing point along the conveyor belt. Woe be unto anyone who takes a bin from the used pile, which is unsanitized. The manager reminded me of Queen Latifah’s character on the current “The Equalizer”- as officious as needed, very professional and very sure of self. The confusion over a delay of the flight turned out to be confusion, and not fact. My flight to Phoenix left on time. I had a relatively brief waiting period in the boarding area and the plane was loaded on time. Nice seatmates, from Louisiana and California bantered, mostly with one another. I occupied myself by watching a silent screening of “Kong vs. Godzilla”, which I have seen as a captive audience, once before. The Hollow Earth theory is something of which I had heard before, when I was about twelve. Thankfully, it has been relegated to B-grade SyFy.

Sky Harbor. Once on the ground in Phoenix, it took only fifteen minutes to retrieve my checked bag. I had changed the shuttle time to Prescott, owing to the rumoured flight delay. So, back upstairs it was, to Blue Mesa Tacos. The new cook was being strictly supervised by the manager, but she was doing a fine job on her own-for which I praised her. The quesadilla was perfect.

Around 6:20, the shuttle to Prescott arrived. As there was space available, I made a quick appeal to the driver and explained the switcheroo. He was glad to take me along, and by 8:30, we were all back at Home Base.

All good things come to an end, followed by other good things.

When On-time Is Late

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November 23, 2021, Phoenix- Once upon a time, Penny and I arrived at Kwangju Airport, in South Korea, a half hour before our flight was due to take-off. The attendant, in a very officious manner, informed us that we were too late for boarding and therefore would be placed on the very next flight-in five hours’ time. We had been in Korea long enough to know that protest, like resistance, was futile.

I have had similar experiences a couple of times since, all here in the U.S. and essentially because of the short time between connecting flights and serious distance between the terminals. LAX, in particular, offers one way to get from domestic to international-one’s own two feet.

Nowadays, if I have a flight to catch, as I do today, the solution is to catch an early airport shuttle from Prescott, grab a hearty lunch, then check in and go through TSA at a time when there is relatively scant traffic, then have plenty of time to ease into the afternoon and set my thoughts on things that either matter, or should.

The fallout over the Kenosha verdict has been underscored by the events in Waukesha, although the two are entirely separate issues. KR has made a statement, that he supports the Black Lives Matter movement. He has also made White Power gestures. These tell me that, like many young adults, he is in a state of flux. In my own teen years, I veered from Civil Rights advocate to taking a hawkish position on the Viet Nam War, then briefly considered conscientious objector status, went back to wanting to look into the conflict firsthand and having to confront my own subconscious, ingrained biases-with regard to People of Colour.

Where someone ends up, in a place of maturity, largely depends on the intersection between heart and mind. Both Ronald Reagan and Donald Trump, at one point in their public lives, were liberal Democrats. I have a childhood friend who is in the same position- the fiery leftist of the ’70s is now a business Republican. (I saw that one coming, way back in the late 1960s, but no matter).

My passion, which has itself ebbed and flowed, over the years, is still there-at the intersection between heart and mind. It’s one area where lateness is not an option.

Quotidia Beget Adventure

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March 7, 2019, Los Angeles-

Among the phenomena which might be overlooked, when one is en route to a special destination, is the landscape below an airplane circling for a safe landing.  Such was the case this evening, as our Sky West flight from Phoenix got cleared for landing at LAX.

This was the first time in memory that I had a window seat, and thus could look at the vast expanse of  territory that is the Los Angeles Basin.  With all that has been written, bantered and felt about LA and its smog, congestion and excess, the place as a whole is a marvel, when seen from 8,000 feet-especially at night.  Some SoCal-phobes will reply that a mess can’t be a marvel, but we know better.  One does not have to approve of  what is the current situation, to be amazed at how much humanity is packed into even such a vast area.

Prior to this, I put in a full day at work and was glad to leave my charges with a sense of accomplishment, leading up to the ten-week homestretch that follows Spring Break,  The shuttle van down to Phoenix was an equally smooth and quotidian process, with us arriving at Sky Harbor with time to spare.  Barrio Avion provided tender and spicy beef for my farewell burrito.

Two three-year-old boys, meeting by chance and becoming fast friends, provided the after-dinner entertainment.  G., a new older brother, very much appreciated the presence of J., his new friend.  Watching them play with miniature cars and trucks, hide and seek and get lectured by their respective fathers, for shaking the line stantions, that are used to separate groups of boarding passengers.  There was no lack of spirit with these two.  Indeed, my first encounter with G was his running up the aisle, momentarily unbeknownst to his parents.  I kept my distance, but also kept an eye on him, in case he made it clear to the TSA  area.  Mom was on scene, 30 seconds later, and brought him safely back to the gate lobby.  Then J and father showed up and more localized activity took over.

We landed at LAX, about fifteen minutes late.  I then embarked on a 1 1/4-mile walk, from the United terminal to the Asiana booths, at Tom Bradley International (AKA Terminal B).  I am in the shape to undertake such a luggage lug, but I wonder how disabled people are accommodated, with the City of Cars expecting everyone to walk, with no electric sidewalks and only the occasional elevator, along the labyrinth.

I made it, with the loudspeaker calling my name, four times, as the Koreans wanted to verify my new passport.  I heard them and felt their pain, eventually getting to show the document to the chief of security at Asiana and receiving his swift assistance, in getting through the line, to the check-in booth and onto the shuttle bus that brought us to the plane.  It was an East Asian style shuttle, meaning that a packer was on hand, to shout at and cajole us into cramming as tightly as possible.  I actually kind of miss those days, in Seoul and Jeju, though I must say young men are less prone to grab all the seats and make women and older men stand for the ride.  That is the one thing about the old days that never failed to get me rankled, especially when Penny was pregnant with Aram.

I’m on the plane now, seated with an elegant woman from Colombia and a Korean student, on Spring Break from her school in Arizona.  It’ll be a long, and I sense, restful, journey to Seoul.